


Who’s Gonna Stop Me?

by CoyoteGhost



Series: Devotion [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A brief mention of rape, A little bit of sexual fantasizing, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hanzo is canon-typical prick about killing Genji, Intercrural Sex, Jesse is a sweet boy who deserves more, M/M, Poor Jack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Threesome fantasizing, Unrequited Love, and also guilty pleasures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:18:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteGhost/pseuds/CoyoteGhost
Summary: It wasn’t every day that you rescued a man-turned-cyborg from his brother. It also wasn’t every day that you ended up fighting with him, only to have him save your ass from an ominous geneticist.OrJesse is sent to Hanamura to raid the Shimada clan, only to come back with a nearly-dead Genji. With Moira around and the way Gabriel is starting to act, Genji becomes an ally that Jesse starts to feel he might need.





	Who’s Gonna Stop Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaay! It’s about time we got some Genji action up in here! I honestly love Genji more than I love Hanzo? Won’t stop me from writing McHanzo in the future lol
> 
> Also, when Jesse talks about his new little weapon, just imagine Reaper’s gauntlet without being decked out and stuff. It’s in its preliminary phase.

If someone would’ve told Jesse McCree that he would end up fighting the Japanese yakuza in Hanamura, he would’ve most certainly laughed in their face and asked ‘what the hell’s a yakuza?’

But there he was, perched on a building overlooking some wealthy bastard’s fucking _castle_ , trying to find the best spot to hop over without getting shot at.

“Remind me what we’re doing here, Gabe?” he asked, and Jesse could hear Gabriel give a nice, long sigh.

“I’ve told you _ten_ _fucking_ _times_.”

“Well, tell me again,” Jesse said, because if he had to suffer, Gabriel would, too.

Could Jesse be a little shit? Yes. But was it worth it to hear Gabriel’s well-deserved suffering? Also yes.

It was fucking _cold_ in Hanamura at night, and the wind cutting through his clothes wasn’t helping. Thank God it wasn’t snowing (while Jesse did enjoy playing in the snow, he absolutely loathed having to sit in it).

Everything was so bright, too. It reminded him vaguely of Los Vegas, what with all of the neon lights and the nightlife. If he listened close enough, he could hear the distant noises of people playing in the arcade, scoring and screaming and having a good time in a nice, warm building.

Yeah, if Gabriel was getting to sit in a room with a heater, he would have to deal with Jesse’s shit. He deserved it.

“Blackwatch’s informant hasn’t given us any new information in a good, long while-“

“Ain’t he always been a little flakey? I ain’t never met him, but that’s what I’ve heard.”

Gabriel sighed yet again, and Jesse could practically see the man pinching the bridge of his nose to fend off a headache.

“He’s always been a little _fickle_ , yes, but he’s never dropped off the face of the fucking earth. That being said, we need to get our own information now, and they have documents in the upper floors. Do you remember the layout?”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but nonetheless grinned around the cigarette between his lips. With a quiet laugh, he said, “Oh, ye of little faith! I could rob the place in my sleep now with how much you forced me to learn it.”

That was probably the honest-to-God truth. Gabriel had made him study the layout of the stupid building and the ones around it until the images were burnt into the back of his eyelids, and even then he studied a little bit more; it was why he could move across the roof with reassured ease. Not that he wanted to, but he most certainly could.

From where he was positioned, Jesse could see down into a small (‘small’, considering it was a _palace_ ) courtyard, and not too far off, an open balcony leading straight into the heart of the building. That’s where he would need to try and reach. 

The entire place was surrounded by huge stone walls, and supposedly there were armed guards beyond it, but Jesse could twist all of that to his advantage; for this mission, he had been granted a special piece of equipment. It wasn’t one he was particularly fond of, though.

On his left arm (only his left, as he needed the other hand free for easy shooting) was something one might consider a gauntlet. It was crafted out of thick black metal that was surprisingly lightweight, all things considered.A strip of the metal ran almost to his elbow, held in place by a firm cord, but it was only on the front side of his arm. The bottom part, his forearm, was covered by a thin sheath of polyurethane fabric that extended to the crook of his elbow, and Jesse was thankful that it kept the metal from digging into his skin. 

The same synthetic sheath continued on to form a glove. It protected his palm and any exposed skin, while the back of his hand was covered in the metal. It was honestly a stunning piece, a rather beautiful creation, but like with anything Blackwatch gave to Jesse, it was meant to kill others, not to awe them. 

At the very end of gauntlet were large, sharp claws that honestly reminded Jesse of a hawk, or perhaps an owl. At roughly one and a half inches long, they were perfectly shaped to cover his fingers and keep them safe. If Jesse opened his hand, spread his fingers, and lashed out, the metal talons would tear into anything without mercy, human flesh included. At the moment, though, they would be assisting Jesse in climbing that stupid rock wall. It had been made specifically for him by Jonathan Abbott and Kara, and even as Jesse jumped from his perch and dug those claws into the rocks, his arm was comfortable and able to distribute the weight and pressure.

Jesse found himself suddenly thankful for the gauntlet (although he absolutely _despised_ having his arm trapped under metal). It was so silent and reliable, so much quieter and honestly safer than trying to find purchase without it.

“I’m literally on the point, so I’m silencing our communications until all’s clear. See you on the other side,” Jesse said, and moved to hoist himself up onto the top of the wall.

Even at night ( _especially_ at night), the guards supposedly roamed the grounds in such tight shifts that it had given Jesse a headache trying to remember their schedules. He had to be careful. If even one man spotted him, the chances of him actually getting out alive dropped tremendously; you can only outrun so many bullets. That looming threat was why he had chosen one of the harder routes into the castle. With this route, there were only two guards on shift. After all, why would you need to watch a place that nobody could get into?

From the top of the wall, Jesse could see one of the two guards standing dutifully on the softly lit pathway. The man didn’t seem very aware of any threats; he seemed to be completely absorbed in his surroundings. Jesse could totally see why. This part of the courtyard was just... well, it was just _beautiful_.

Cherry trees were starting to blossom with a soft, pink elegance, and the night wind carried the petals every which way. One particular tree (Jesse noticed it was the closest one to the wall) was surrounded by a small pond, no more than two feet deep. A little wooden bridge ran from the tree’s island to connect to a neatly-made pathway. Many bushes, none of which were familiar to Jesse, flourished in thick patches off to the side.

The guard seemed just as mystified as Jesse was when it came to the beauty of the little garden. Perhaps he was new? He was certainly young, no older than eighteen, and Jesse suddenly wished it was someone more threatening than a child.

Child or not, though, this was a mission, and everybody was considered a threat. Despite the crisp, formal suit the guard wore (how impractical), Jesse could make out the familiar patterns of armor under the man’s shirt; it was no doubt bullet proof, and there was probably even more covering the rest of him.

Of course, Jesse’s normal solution was to pop a headshot, but that wasn’t a viable option. Probably wouldn’t be for the entire mission. If he shot now, the noise would call in every enemy in the area, and while he could escape by hopping back over the wall, he would leave without gaining anything.

Still, he _did_ have another option.

Jesse took the time to brandish his new talons in the faint light from the castle. He knew he had the strength to put someone into a chokehold, and with this new weapon, it seemed easy, if not potentially effortless, to do some real mortal damage. It was just a matter of getting close enough to the guard without sounding the alarm.

The guard didn’t really seem to move all that much. He was humming some song that Jesse didn’t know, walking back and forth as leisurely as one possibly could, like this was a little midnight stroll. If only. Jesse wished once again that this child could be a hulking man, someone that was potentially worthy of death.The only good thing about this one being young was that he appeared to be more distractible. 

With minimal searching, Jesse found a small, broken piece of rock from the wall, no doubt loosened from his climb. It fit comfortably in his palm. It was a sturdy thing that would make noise once Jesse threw it, and throw he did; as carefully as he could, Jesse reared his arm back and forcefully flung the rock below, about five feet away from him to the left. It went straight into the little water pond with a loud splash.

Jesse didn’t really know much Japanese, but from what little he understood, he knew that everything coming out of the guard’s mouth sure as hell wasn’t PG.

With his gun drawn, the guard slowly inched his way towards the pond. Closer, close, _closer_... Jesse felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, the same way it did before he cocked his gun and fired. He didn’t prefer hand-to-hand and close-quarter combat, but he didn’t really have much of a choice, did he?

As soon as the guard took one step into the water, Jesse jumped straight down onto his body and pushed the both of them into the pond. The force was enough to knock the wind out of the poor boy. With his entire body submerged under two feet of water, and no way to get any air, drowning was a sure fate with the rate the guard’s lungs were flooding. It was an act of mercy, really, when Jesse tore the boy’s neck clean open.

Despite his own thick armor, Jesse could feel the blood soaking his skin as he held the thrashing guard’s head down with his flesh hand and ripped into the throat with the other (Jesse noticed with mild distaste that the boy’s struggling splashed blood straight onto his face). It was familiar to some extent, so he knew what he was doing; sever the trachea, the carotid artery, the jugular vein. Jesse was just surprised with how easily he could do it with this new weapon.

“Tell Jonathan that his and Kara’s invention works perfectly,” he said, reaching up to press a finger against his earpiece once he finished, “But that it’s seriously fucked it.”

He could hear Gabriel huff something that might be considered a laugh. “You cleared the area, then?”

Even as Jesse rose from his position, he could see the blood seeping into the water at his feet, traveling whichever way the current swept it. It came so profusely that it stained the pink cherry petals that had landed on the pond’s surface. A few feet away, Jesse saw colorful koi swimming apprehensively at a distance, and he actually felt worse for polluting their water than he did tearing a human’s neck open.

If Jesse had more time to contemplate, he might’ve considered it all to be some symbolic moment of stolen innocence. It was a shame he was too busy dragging the body into the bushes to think more on it.

“Yeah, everything’s clear. The other guard isn’t in sight and I haven’t caught wind of anyone else,” Jesse said. “Should be fine as of right now. Give me a minute to get to the top floors.”

Jesse took a moment to observe the building in front of him. He knew the layout well, knew that in the very top part of the castle was a study that had once belonged to Sojiro Shimada. Gabriel had told Jesse that Blackwatch needed some records and various documents hidden away in the room, and while Gabriel hadn’t known what the papers looked like, he told Jesse what was on them.

Gabriel then stated something along the lines of “I’m confident in your abilities to discern between vital information and trash, Jesse. You’re a smart man, you’re the best at your job. You’ll do good.”

That was always the thing that got Jesse. It was honestly just one word.

Good, _good_ , _**good**_.

He strived for that praise, for the acknowledgment that he was doing something right, something worthwhile. He didn’t want his work, his _life_ , to be in vain. He wanted something more than chaos. Whenever Gabriel - or, hell, even Jack - told him that, it made his stomach do funny things that he really couldn’t articulate just yet. Jesse still thought for himself, most certainly, but the drive to be good was a damn strong influence if there ever was one.

Now was not the time for deep internal monologue, though. Jesse had a building to climb.

He was rather thankful that the castle was partially made of wood; his claws dug in deeper than when they had been faced with the rock wall, and it made it remarkably easier to shimmy upwards. Jesse effortlessly climbed the first story, and was almost to the second story balcony before something whizzed past his face, coming so close that it nearly sliced his skin.

Was that... an arrow?

As swiftly as he could, Jesse climbed the remainder of the way to the balcony and pulled himself up. Another arrow flew by, but buried itself into a wooden pillar off to the left. It was certainly far away from the other arrow’s path. From that, Jesse could deduce that those arrows weren’t meant for him, and that even if they were, the shooter was too sporadic to actually hit him.

Jesse ignored the projectiles and crouched lower to the ground. He didn’t pay any mind to the loud commotion happening in the room below him (why should he, as long as he wasn’t the one getting shot at?) and proceeded with the plan.

Off to the right was a set of stairs leading up to Sojiro’s office. Perfect. Without hesitation, Jesse shot up those stairs as fast as his feet could carry him. He knew that if he encountered anyone, he could take care of them (again, the gauntlet was effective, but it sure as shit was fucked up); oddly enough, though, he encountered no one.

The place was a ghost town. It set Jesse on edge, and as he approached the office and set to picking the lock, he couldn’t help but look around every few seconds. It was completely dark in the upstairs area. It made Jesse feel better, and suddenly he could understand why Gabriel liked hiding in the shadows more than fighting in the light.

“I thought you said this place was crawling with guards,” Jesse said, mumbling around the small flashlight he held with his teeth. After a few moments, the lock clicked open with ease. “I’ve only seen one so far.”

He could feel more than hear Gabriel’s concern across the line, and no doubt Gabriel could feel his uneasiness; it was something they had both gotten good at, feeling for each other.

“It _is_ supposed to be heavily protected, especially where you’re going. Just... _please_ be careful. If it really seems empty, it could be a trap.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jesse said as he pushed open the door. “And I’ll be careful, Gabe. I promise.”

With cautious, tentative steps, Jesse moved carefully into the darkness of the room. It was rather expansive, but that was no real surprise. A few vast window panes covered the entire back wall, and through them, faint moonlight bled onto the hardwood flooring. The large desk in the middle of the room, neatly littered with stacks of paper (which painfully reminded Jesse of Gabriel), was his target.

Jesse approached the desk and automatically started sifting through the papers, opening all of the drawers and files that he could find. He was looking specifically for lists of Sojiro’s associates and anything to do with his finances and transactions.

It took Jesse roughly fifteen minutes to grab what he deemed necessary and shove it into his bag. He also grabbed as much money as he could get his hands on; Jesse naturally recognized the U.S. dollar, but also the Japanese yen, the Swiss franc, the euro, and the South Korean won due to all of his traveling. Taking it might help Blackwatch trace Sojiro’s ‘friends’, and besides, Jesse was never one to turn down money.

Not wanting to linger any longer than he already had, Jesse set out to leave the room and make for the boarder. He had what he came for. As he left the upstairs area and ran back down onto the balcony, a sudden clang reached Jesse’s ears; against his will, he felt a surge of compulsion, even as he readied to jump off.

He wished he didn’t feel it. Jesse really just wanted to leave, especially since he was still on edge (quite literally at the moment), but even still, one fucking thing was making him hesitate.

He could still hear a ruckus coming from the other room.

Jesse sighed in frustration as he stepped back from the ledge, running a hand across his face as he shifted his weight back and forth. Why? Why was he like this? Jesse cursed himself bitterly as he finally made up his mind; he was going to check things out. Because why the fuck not at this point?

There were stairs that led down to the room where the commotion was happening (Jesse noticed it was on the first floor, which made him even _more_ nervous about being led into a trap). There didn’t seem to be any places where guards could hide out, or where alarms might be set. It actually didn’t seem too terribly bad.

Well, even if it _was_ a trap, Jesse reasoned with himself, then he could actually use Peacekeeper to take everyone out. If they already knew he was there, it would be okay to cause more noise.

With that bit of reassurance in mind, Jesse prowled over to the stairs, then moved down closer into the room.

Truthfully, Jesse expected to see a lot of things. He expected to see guard’s sparring, maybe brawling with another intruder. He expected to see a training course like they had in Blackwatch being used. Hell, he was even prepared to see some weird Japanese rituals or some shit.

What he did _not_ expect to find, however, was blood and chunks of flesh splattered everywhere, along with the man they belonged to and his attacker.

It took a moment for Jesse to register everything that he was seeing. There were two men in the room. The first man, the attacker, was tall and slender, his long hair pulled back so perfectly that it was like a black horse’s tail. Every inch of him seemed covered in blood, and the sword in his hand was obviously the cause.

The second man looked much younger, or maybe he wasn’t. It was honestly hard to tell considering there wasn’t much left of him. Arrows littered his body, and his flesh was cut and torn so viciously that it put Jesse’s claws to shame. There was so much crimson staining the surroundings that Jesse was afraid the man was already dead. His sword was off a few yards from his body. If Jesse had to guess, he would say the man had been rendered defenseless in the end.

Jesse had seen crimes like this. Whatever he had just walked into, whatever he had witnessed... it was personal. Nothing was ever this brutal for the hell of it. Even if it was, it was often a massacre, not just a single victim. Personal vendettas always made everything more heinous and disgusting.

Jesse found himself running towards the injured man out of sheer instinct; he was used to finding other agents out on the field who looked similar to that (normally caused by IEDs), and if somebody didn’t reach them in time, they would almost always die within the hour.

This man, though, might not survive thirty more minutes.

The man with the sword heard Jesse approach just in time, because if he hadn’t moved, his shoulder would’ve been mutilated (and probably more than his shoulder, if Jesse could’ve gotten him to the ground). Without much coherent thought, Jesse lunged forwards again, then again, and then once more before the man finally recollected himself enough to start fighting back.

He yelled something in Japanese as he swung his sword (katana?), but Jesse didn’t care. He met the sword with the metal of his gauntlet, beyond grateful it covered his arm, and he silently thanked Gabriel for _forcefully_ teaching him about momentum when fighting. He allowed the sword to slice into the metal as he directed the energy upwards, and the man’s arm was almost completely vertical when Jesse pushed forwards with a vengeance.

The sudden lack of distance was enough to force the sword out of the man’s hand, and the closeness allowed Jesse to land a punch straight into the man’s stomach (although Jesse had a feeling that on a good day, he wouldn’t even be able to get close to this man, let alone punch him).

The attacker balked at having been disarmed, even more so when he stumbled backwards from the punch. He was honestly surprised at being beaten. The uncertainty he portrayed was suddenly replaced with rage, and Jesse felt his heart start to pound in his ears as something akin to a snarl ripped itself from his throat.

“Get out of here, and leave him alone!” Jesse barked, moving backwards a bit as if to protect the younger man on the ground. “Can’t you see you’ve already killed him?”

“He deserved it! He-“

“I don’t give a damn what you _think_ he deserves. Get. _Out_.”

Jesse felt his voice lower to the point where it could compete with Gabriel’s. It was dark, threatening, and as the man shuffled a few steps back, Jesse couldn’t help but think about what he might look like to the other.

Gabriel, Jack... both of them, despite their many disagreements, had always told Jesse that his feral behavior wasn’t particularly a virtue. It had gotten him into trouble more than it helped him get out of. How feral did he look now, teeth bared, eyes wild, animalistic claws caked in dried blood? Jesse found himself believing that both Gabriel and Jack had been wrong; his behavior was doing right by him, at least right now.

It felt like an eternity before the man finally turned around and fled, dropping his sword and picking up a discarded bow (no doubt the one that was firing off arrows earlier) as he ran through the exit. Jesse found that he couldn’t care less if the attacker came back or not. His main concern was the dying, maybe dead, man on the floor.

When Jesse knelt down, he could finally get a good look at the poor victim; he was cut profusely and mercilessly destroyed, so much so that some parts of him were almost completely separated from the body. The blood was so plentiful that Jesse nearly slipped on it and fell.

This man looked so... young. He wasn’t really a man at all; if anything, he was just a boy. His hair was vivid green, black at its very roots, and his eyes were dull and nearly lifeless. It was almost a miracle that Jesse noticed the man’s chest rising and falling at all, especially considering it was such a minuscule movement that it was practically nonexistent.

Out of nowhere, something deep inside of Jesse’s mind started tugging harshly at his memories. The victim’s face was familiar somehow. Well, sometimes everyone looked a little familiar; if you kill enough people, they all start to merge together until they’re indiscernible.

Maybe this boy had been a target at some point? No, that didn’t seem right. Jesse would’ve been told by Gabriel if he needed to kill someone specifically, and besides, Jesse was sure that if this man _had_ been a target, he wouldn’t forget the flashy features (seriously though? Bright green hair?).

As Jesse broke a few arrow (it would keep them from hitting anything and causing more damage), he finally managed to remember who this man was, and the memories hit him like a ton of bricks.

This was Genji Shimada.

Many years back, when Jesse had been wounded in the hospital (it was right after Jack’s mission in Arkansas), Genji had wandered into his room late one night and sat down to talk with him. It was so fucking random. Jesse had been in such a foul mood that he practically threatened to kill Genji if he didn’t leave, but the Shimada boy wasn’t easily deterred. Instead, he lazily lounged on the guest chair beside Jesse’s bed and started talking.

He had originally described himself as a merchant’s son. Not one for lies, Jesse told Genji that he was part of Blackwatch and “wasn’t buying his bullshit”. Genji had laughed at him and muttered something Jesse couldn’t understand, then finally confessed that he was a son of a particularly wealthy family, one that had Blackwatch’s interest.

He said he came from overseas, under the guise of being a playboy (which he was, in all fairness). In reality, though, he was trying to bring his family to justice with the help of Commander Reyes. Being fresh out of Deadlock, Jesse had felt a bit disgusted at how easily Genji betrayed his family, but after the moment passed, he thought on it no more.

Jesse remembered Genji honestly trying to cheer him up for no other reason than he wanted to. They were close in age (two years apart, apparently), so they got along rather well. Genji teased Jesse for saying ‘Shimada’ improperly, then taught him a few Japanese curse words in exchange for Jesse telling him some Spanish expletives. It was a good time, and Jesse had felt better by the time his new friend had left.

Jesse hadn’t seen Genji since that faithful day, but he now felt personally responsible for getting him out of this castle alive.

“I found our informant,” Jesse said, “Genji Shimada, age twenty-one, in need of emergency medical care.”

“If you can’t save him, McCree, then leave him. You have to get out of there before anyone finds you.”

“I’ll take the punishment later, but with all due respect, Reyes,” he paused, taking Genji into his arms as carefully and gently as he could, “Kiss my ass.”

Disregarding what Gabriel had told him and ignoring any protests that were coming his way, Jesse made his way back towards the balcony. Something out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention right before he made it to the stairs; it was Genji’s discarded sword. Against his better judgment, Jesse walked over to pick it up, maneuvering the weapon until it was hanging proudly from his belt.

Maybe it was like Genji’s version of a Peacekeeper, or maybe it was nothing at all. Regardless, Jesse would take it.

With that all tucked away, Jesse finally made his way to the balcony. Guards had started to mill around now. Perhaps the man that had attacked Genji had informed the guards of his presence, or maybe they were reacting to the attacker himself.

Jesse couldn’t find it in himself to actually care. As he scrambled to find a way out, he could only hope and desperately pray that Genji would make it out alive.

——

Despite all odds, with the help of Angela and the rest of her team, Genji had been brought back to life. He would be safe now.

Jesse _almost_ couldn’t say the same.

As soon as he dropped off Genji and handed the gauntlet back to Jonathan for safekeeping, Gabriel had quite literally pounced on him like an angry panther. As soon as he entered Reyes’s quarters, Jesse got slammed face-first into the nearest wall. He barely missed the desk a few feet from them.

“‘Kiss my ass’? Really?” Gabriel asked. He held Jesse’s arms tightly behind his back, and it was almost uncomfortable when Gabriel pressed his entire weight down.

“You _know_ I wasn’t just gonna leave him, he needed help.”

Gabriel scoffed, but Jesse felt his partner’s warm breath ghost against his blood-caked neck, chapped lips following closely behind. It was enough to make Jesse’s eyes flutter close. How long had it been since they’d had an intimate moment? It honestly felt like a lifetime, and as Jesse pressed back against Gabriel, his heart started beating faster in his chest.

“You can go fuck yourself,” Gabriel teased, and there was only mischievous affection in his voice. While keeping Jesse’s arms tightly in one had, Gabriel reached up and tangled his other in his partner’s matted hair. In one swift motion, he jerked Jesse’s head to the side.

Jesse laughed at the roughness as he ground his ass back against Gabriel’s crotch. Even as Gabriel bit painfully into his neck, he continued to laugh, but it was more of a whimpering moan by the third bite.

“Only if you’re watching,” Jesse playfully shot back. His words might not have been the clearest, considering he spoke between his breaths, but Gabriel could translate.

Jesse could feel Gabriel let his arms go in favor of reaching in front of him, palming at the obvious tent that had formed in his pants. It was enough to make Jesse buck.

Gabriel knew Jesse’s body, he knew what to do and when to do it, and as he expertly unbuckled Jesse’s belt and forced his pants around his ankles, he knew to continue to bite down and lavish Jesse’s neck until the flesh was red and angry.

The assault left Jesse a whimpering, babbling mess; not even Jesse himself knew what was coming out of his mouth at that point. He continued even when Gabriel moved his hand from Jesse’s hair to cover his mouth, and despite being muffled, the talking only worsened when Gabriel freed Jesse’s aching cock from the confines of his boxers.

He felt himself crying out wantonly as Gabriel loosely wrapped a hand around his length, moving so slowly, so teasingly, that it was enough to make Jesse aware that the gibberish coming from his mouth was begging. In the back of his muddled mind, Jesse knew exactly why Gabriel wasn’t helping him out.

He was being punished.

As Gabriel said, disobedience was a bitch, and he his actions were cruel enough to prove his point.

Jesse found himself rutting desperately against Gabriel’s hand, sweating like a stallion from the effort and the heat. Time after time, he was denied any sort of real friction, any sort of relief. It was enough to drive a man insane, and it wasn’t until he started to press back on Gabriel that he got a positive reaction.

Even through the other man’s pants, Jesse could feel that Gabriel had hardened tremendously, and Jesse naturally took advantage of that. He canted his hips and ground backwards with such shameless eagerness that even the most experienced whore would be impressed. It was enough for Gabriel to press himself impossibly closer and rut against Jesse’s ass, allowing Jesse to finally, _finally_ do the same against his hand.

”Want to help me out?” Gabriel muttered, and he laughed as Jesse nodded his head so vigorously that he might’ve gotten whiplash.

Gabriel pulled himself away only for a moment, and only a few feet away to reach for the desk, but Jesse gave a petulant, needy whine anyways. He continued to do so, even when he heard Gabriel’s own pants drop to the floor. He only stopped when his boxers were yanked past his knees and his thighs were roughly forced apart, shuddering at the feeling.

Did he absolutely lose his mind when Gabriel manhandled him? _Oh_ _hell_ _yes_. 

Jesse jumped a bit when he felt Gabriel’s calloused hands rub his thighs down with a cool lubricant, and reveled at the laughter behind him.

”You know what to do?” Gabriel asked. He was breathless, but the praise in his voice was unmistakable when Jesse nodded. “Good boy, Jess.”

There was that word again. He was good. He was _good_.

Jesse keened so pitifully loud that Gabriel laughed, then rewarded the noise with the heavy weight of his cock between Jesse’s thighs. He gave his own little grunt when Jesse clamped down.

Whenever they didn’t have the time or energy to go into prepping, they would always do this instead, and Jesse didn’t mind it one bit. He fucking _drooled_ when Gabriel would slam against him, whether or not it was between his legs or elsewhere.

He felt himself shaking when Gabriel started to move with more force. The slick, obscene noises were enough to make him start moaning and whining with such earnest that Gabriel had forced his hand back around Jesse’s mouth, while the other went back to his neglected dick. As much as he could probably get off on the way Gabriel was ramming into him, Jesse _really_ enjoyed when he was able to start rutting against something other than the wall and thin air.

”You’re a good boy, Jess,” Gabriel praised, and he emphasized each word with a snap of his hips, the filthy sound of skin on skin not blocking out a thing. “Perfect, beautiful, wonderful.”

There was no fucking way Gabriel didn’t know exactly what he was doing. There was no way he didn’t feel Jesse’s breath hitch with every word, or feel him tremble as his entire body was pounded into the wall without mercy. Jesse was so close that tears brimmed his eyes, and the feeling of Gabriel’s cock between his thighs was enough to make him see stars. Add the onslaught of teeth biting down on his neck and the relentless pace of Gabriel’s hand, and Jesse was as good as gone.

And then, _of_ _fucking_ _course_ , someone decided they really needed to knock on the door.

Jesse felt himself cursing so vehemently into Gabriel’s hand that his partner had to press down harder, his fingers curling tightly against Jesse’s mouth to keep him quiet. Gabriel didn’t stop his own delightfully forceful rutting, didn’t move his other hand, either, and Jesse could only sing sweet praises at that blessing.

“Who is it?” Gabriel called. His voice was surprisingly even, despite how Jesse could feel the harsh rhythm and strength that was driving him into the wall. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“It’s Morrison. I need to discuss what Blackwatch’s cat decided to drag in.”

Well, at least Jesse would probably still manage to get off, and Gabriel was certainly helping him. Slicked by the precum that covered his fingers, Gabriel’s hand returned to its swift, merciless pace with a vengeance, and Jesse felt he could’ve screamed from the pleasure of it all. He even felt hysterically pleased that Gabriel’s hand might bruise his lips, considering the force he used to keep his partner’s mouth shut.

Even though Jesse was normally the first to finished, he could feel Gabriel ram against him with such a renewed erratic vigor that Jesse was certain some other parts of him would be bruised, too. The hand around his mouth tightened painfully as Gabriel finally came. Jesse felt the heat, felt the added slickness that made Gabriel’s rutting sound absolutely _depraved_ , and Jesse couldn’t bring himself to care if anyone heard him when he started to cry out with reckless abandon. 

He now felt his own hips jerking more erratically. From the punishing pace to the feeling of the rough callouses on Gabriel’s hands, everything was driving him absolutely insane. The warm, blistering heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach was almost too much to bear.

He briefly comprehended that Gabriel and Jack were still talking with one another, and in the corner of his mind, he knew that Jack could probably barge in at any moment; he was the Strike Commander, after all, and he could manually open the door. Still, the filthy part of Jesse’s mind wondered what Jack would think if he _did_ walk in now.

Would Jack be disgusted? Would he scream and curse at the two of them, damning them for their actions? Would he be embarrassed at having caught them and quickly turn away? Would he be aroused, too? Would he stay and watch, or maybe even join?

It was those final thoughts that had Jesse sobbing into Gabriel’s hand, feeling himself come with a violent jolt. Gabriel milked him for all that he was worth before taking his hand and wiping it on Jesse’s already soiled shirt, and he helped pull both his and Jesse’s pants up with an almost panicked swiftness. He placed one last kiss on Jesse’s neck before gently nudging him up. It was so fast that there was hardly any time to recuperate.

“Go shower, I’ll talk with Jack.”

Jesse, despite the post-coital haze, nodded, and somehow managed to hobble towards the shower (although he certainly didn’t walk straight), holding his pants up with one hand. As soon as he entered the bathroom, he heard Gabriel’s door open and the familiar sound of Jack’s boots tapping against the floor.

Jesse didn’t pay them much mind as he stripped himself of his bloody, soiled clothing and turned on the shower, not bothering to wait for it to warm up. He wasn’t particularly focused on... well, _anything_ at the moment; he didn’t even bother to daydream. As soon as the water hit his skin, the caked blood and filth from his mission and little escapade went down the drain in a mix of brown, red, and white. 

Jesse made sure to wash his hair twice, scrubbing very thoroughly despite the length (even though his mission to Deadlock Gorge happened two years ago, Jesse still decided to keep his hair short), then forcefully scrubbed every inch of his skin. About twenty-five minutes later, he emerged clean and with a much clearer head.

As Jesse wrapped a towel around his waist and shook his hair out, he couldn’t help but overhear quiet murmuring outside of the bathroom. Well, that was interesting.

The nosy part of Jesse found himself listening as carefully to the outside world as he could. Really, he needed to be prepared for any potential animosity; his actions had gone directly against Gabriel’s wishes, and Jack was probably going to have to deal with some of the consequences, too.

“What are we even going to do with him?” Jesse heard Gabriel muttered. His voice was low, but Jesse could hear him when he pressed an ear against the door. He found himself leaning closer.

“I’m not really sure. Angela... she wanted to try something. It’s a little-“

Without warning, the door (Jesse had left cracked in his haze) swung open from Jesse’s weight, and he fell unceremoniously to the floor, landing with a wet slap. He stayed still for a few seconds before daring to look up at the other to men in the room.

Despite the previously austere attitude, Jesse could see that Jack was starting to crack up, his shoulders shuddering as Jesse smiled up at him. Gabriel, on the other hand, looked at him with some odd form of amused resignation. He could feel the fake disappointment from across the room.

“Nice of you to join us,” Jack said, and he walked over to hoist Jesse off the ground. “You didn’t have to eavesdrop, you know. You aren’t in trouble. Well, not with me, anyways.”

As Jesse stood, he felt his towel slip off of his waist, and he if he hadn’t been embarrassed before, he certainly felt it now. Well, it wasn’t really embarrassment. He paraded around naked in the shower rooms with the rest of his friends (there was no point in modesty anymore), but this just felt... different.

He knew Jack’s eyes were on him, just like Gabriel’s, and he didn’t necessarily mind it. It was just the fact that Jesse wasn’t sure if he could ever properly address whatever Jack felt towards him. Gabriel would probably choke Jack before he ever got the words out.

Gabriel didn’t share very well, they all knew it, so Jesse had a feeling it was more than politeness that made Jack advert his eyes (and if he had seen the raw marks on Jesse’s neck, he said nothing).

“What was it you were saying about Angela?” Jesse asked. He rewrapped his towel around his waist and walked back over to Gabriel with Jack.

Jack sighed, his mind having moved on from Jesse’s accidental ‘show’. He seemed so tired now.

“She wants to build Genji a new body. With the help of the medical staff and Torbjörn, Angela is fully capable of replacing body parts.”

Jesse didn’t even have to look at Gabriel to know they both shared the same incredulous look. Build Genji a new body? That was something straight out of a science fiction novel. Was that even possible? Well, yeah, Jesse knew it was wholly realistic; Torbjörn himself had a weird prosthetic arm... thingy. Claw? Maybe hook? Whatever. It was a prosthetic and it was a substitute for a missing arm.

Still, an _entire_ _body_? That was a whole new ballgame, even for the competent Angela Ziegler.

Maybe.

She had build the Caduceus staff and a Valkyrie suit, something that supposedly halted her aging process, and she had was practically a god in the medical field. When Jesse thought on it, a new body might just be a breeze for the good doctor.

“What does Genji say about this?” Jesse asked. That was honestly his primary concern.

Jack looked as if he had expected that question, and gave Jesse a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

“He agreed. He did so begrudgingly, but he did consent to any experimental treatment.”

That made Jesse feel a whole lot better; he knew personally what it was like to be used ‘experimentally’ by others. It was an occurrence so common back in Deadlock that he had almost wept in relief when Overwatch refused to touch him unless he gave the okay (except when it was dire, but even then they had given Jesse paperwork to fill out, stating that he had given them consent to treat him if he was unable to agree due to his condition).

“How long before the body is finished?” Gabriel asked, and it was a question that Jesse was eager to hear the answer to.

Jack shrugged. He tried to run calculations and recall Angela’s words for the both of them, despite probably not remembering much.

“Just give it time,” he said instead. “You’ll both be the first to know when everything is ready.”

——

Jack had been right. With the exception of Angela’s medical team (Torbjörn included) and Jack himself, Gabriel and Jesse were pretty much the first people to know.

They were both returning from a mission in Dubai when Angela’s favorite nurse, Andreas Hudson, had sent them a notification. Although more or less unconscious, Genji’s body was complete and ready for him to use. He would be woken up to test out his new limbs and calibrate everything once Angela was sure that the electrical parts of Genji wouldn’t hurt him anymore than they had to.

Jesse had honestly been excited to properly introduce himself to Genji; the last time they had met, he was more or less surly and drugged up, and he made for terrible company. Gabriel was decidedly indifferent. He was cautious, and rightly so, but his opinion on the matter was neither here nor there.

“Do you really think his body will work?” Jesse asked Gabriel. They had just landed back at Zürich, and needless to say, they were both exhausted.

Gabriel stated his apathy with a noncommittal sigh. He was just as worn out as his partner, so Jesse didn’t speak anymore on the matter, too preoccupied with how he himself was feeling. After the mission they’d just had, he felt horribly grimy. He was covered in salt water, blood, some odd liquid that Jesse would honestly classify as a voodoo potion, and sand.

So. Much. Sand.

With every step, Jesse felt it fall from his uniform and leave a small golden trail in his wake, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was more irritated than anything. Jesse swore the sand was in his wounds, too, no matter how much Gabriel had frustratingly stated otherwise.

Part of the blood that was caked all over his body was from both Gabriel and himself. Cuts lacerated his skin, and he had such a horrible gash on his torso that it had to be stitched mid-mission lest he bleed to death. It ran sideways from the top of his navel to the center of his back.

Thanks to the biotic field Angela had supplied them, it felt a hell of a lot better than it had before. Still, it was enough to impede his movement significantly; with every step he took, he felt like he wanted to vomit.

As if that weren’t enough, Jesse’s nose had been broken, his lip busted as well, and his entire face stung like a bitch. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that they had both made it out alive.

Jesse felt Gabriel was less lucky, despite the adamant claims otherwise. He was limping something fierce (he’d probably fractured his leg again, but SEP would handle it), and the slash across his face would no doubt leave one more scar to accompany the others. He didn’t seem bothered by it, and so Jesse didn’t let it bother him, either.

By the time the two of them reached Gabriel’s quarters, Jesse swore he would’ve just collapsed on the floor if Gabriel’s bed hadn’t had been so close. The sheets - oh, the sheets - were so gloriously soft after sleeping on the ground for weeks on end. Jesse fell straight onto his back and was content to stay there for a very, very long time.

“You’re getting sand on the bed,” Gabriel groused. He had removed his clothing completely, his phone and comm on the bedside table (Jesse’s own were still in his pockets, along with his trusty knife) and he’d obviously been set on getting into some sweatpants before he noticed Jesse.

“I’m not moving.”

“Jesse, please. If you get sand everywhere, we’re going to have to change the sheets.”

“My stomach really, really hurts, Gabe. I don’t wanna move no more,” Jesse muttered, and he felt like such a child with those words. He felt even worse when tears started to well up in his eyes.

He had often spoken that phrase when he was much younger, when his old boss had actually given a damn about his wellbeing. Those were the days when Jesse was allowed some form of comfort; his boss, or just someone older, would take him by the hand and lay him down, maybe even lay down with him and hold him close. His cry was pitiful, even now, but it was true nonetheless.

Gabriel knew that, too. The sigh he gave was more of a sympathetic, guilty sound than a frustrated one (an indicator that he probably felt responsible for Jesse’s wounds), and instead of continuing his scolding, Gabriel walked over to the bed and started to undress Jesse himself. He was so gentle, so careful, that even Jesse’s aches and pains didn’t smart too much.

Eventually Gabriel got him stripped naked, and he set to sweeping the sand off of the bed with one hand; only when he was satisfied did he move Jesse over, very mindful of his wounds, and settled himself down, too. He threw the blanket over both of them and, like Jesse, refused to move another inch.

Still, Jesse could see Gabriel’s appraising glances. He could feel his partner’s concern over his crying (because Jesse was certainly not one to cry), and he knew that Gabriel would continue to watch over him until he felt it was okay not to. Jesse was silently grateful for that.

“I can go get something from Angela for you if you want,” Gabriel said. He was careful not to touch Jesse, but he stayed very close by.

Jesse was thankful for that, for the body next to his. Gabriel was like his own personal heater thanks to the SEP, and when they were covered up, the warmth stayed trapped beneath the blankets. It soothed every part of Jesse’s aching body, and it even made his gash feel a little bit better.

“I’ll go with you, but I just wanna lay here for a bit. Thank you, Gabe.” Jesse stretched over a little, and placed a soft, reverent kiss to Gabriel’s lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Jess.”

As Jesse had hoped, the two of them laid in bed and didn’t move for an entire hour, maybe even a bit more. It felt good. Although he himself didn’t sleep, Jesse could hear Gabriel’s breathing even out, and on occasion, he would even give a quiet little snore. It was understandable that Gabriel was tired, even if they hadn’t just returned from a mission; it was almost three in the morning.

Jesse himself was exhausted beyond belief, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He wanted to so badly that he could cry (again), but every bone in his body felt as if it had been shattered, and every muscle burned like Jesse had been set on fire. His stomach was also hurting something fierce.

The biotic field really _had_ helped;it had aided his wounds in scabbing over, and the gash had started to reconstruct with a thin layer of scar tissue. At the same time, though, the entire thing throbbed to every single beat of his heart. The pain persisted for so long that even breathing felt like a struggle.

Eventually, however, Jesse felt himself start to drift off. Lulled by Gabriel’s heat and the soft mattress beneath his weary body, Jesse’s eyes slowly fluttered shut, and his mind started to wander to a quieter place.

And then Gabriel’s phone let out such a shrill shriek that both of them jolted upright, ready to continue the fight that had long since been over.

Jesse hissed and almost screamed out all sorts of obscenities as he felt his stomach stretch more than necessary, and Gabriel tried to comfort him as he silenced the high-pitched ringing.

“I swear to God if that’s Morrison, I’m going to break his fucking face,” Jesse ground out. Sure enough, when Gabriel picked up his phone, it was none other than Jack Morrison.

Really, there was actually a long list of people who it could’ve been; the piercing tone was set aside for emergencies, and all of the phones and comms in Overwatch had it. One press of a button and that stupid noise would break the recipient’s ear drums.

Although Jesse couldn’t hear the exact words that Jack was screaming across the line, the volume and manner in which he spoke was enough to set Jesse on edge. When Gabriel forced himself out of bed and started to get redressed, it was obviously an actual, honest-to-God emergency instead of a false alarm.

“I know you’re hurting, Jesse, but I really need you to get up and get dressed,” Gabriel pleaded, and Jesse relented as his partner eased him out of bed.

Seriously, fuck Jack Morrison.

Whenever Jesse would start to falter, Gabriel would murmur soft praises to him, would help him slip his shirt over his head, and it was a huge help; without that, Jesse doubted he could’ve actually gotten out from under the covers to begin with. Not that it would be a problem. On the contrary, when Jesse slipped on his filthy, sandy, grimy uniform, he wished that he was back in bed, huddled next to Gabriel and drifting off to sleep.

Well, there ain’t no rest for the wicked, or so it would seem.

As they left the room, Jesse didn’t ask where they were going, and Gabriel didn’t tell him. He couldn’t really bring himself to care. It was only when they pushed past sterile white doors that Jesse realized where they were; it was Angela’s infirmary, or what was left of it.

Everything was wrecked as far as the eye could see. Medical supplies were everywhere, lightbulbs had been busted, paperwork covered the floors, and that was only to name a few troubles. Off to the side, nurse Hudson was wrapping his arm in a bandage. Both Gabriel and Jesse ran over to him (it was more of an odd hobble with Gabriel’s leg and Jesse’s stomach).

“What the hell happened?” Jesse asked. The concern in his tone was unmistakable, but anger was also present. It wasn’t directed at Hudson; no, it was directed towards whoever or whatever had wounded Jesse’s friend.

Nurse Hudson didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he finished wrapping his arm and picked up something off of the floor. Jesse recognized it was a biotic field as soon as the soft, golden light surrounded all three of them, and the pain that had been radiating in Jesse’s gut lessened; even if it was only a little, the relief he felt made him give a quiet sob. Hudson noticed and subtly shifted the field closer to his friend.

“That boy, Shimada, he went on a rampage. As soon as Doctor Ziegler released him to test and calibrate his body, he grabbed the nearest object and started to attack people. Damaged the circuit breaker, too, hence the lighting problem.”

Hudson’s voice was even, as if he were talking about the weather over a cup of tea. He was so calm, and Jesse envied that about the man; there was no anger in Hudson’s voice, yet Jesse felt his own fury kindling against Genji.

“Where’s the rest of the medical staff?” Gabriel asked, and Hudson directed him down the left hallway. He stated that they were at the very end, specifically in the second surgical room near the lab.

Jesse started to face the hallway to the right on instinct, the opposite way that Gabriel would be going. It was just habit to split apart and cover more ground. Gabriel seemed to agree.

“You’ve still got your phone in your pocket, right?” Gabriel asked, “And your knife?”

Jesse nodded, but took the time to check and make sure everything was still there; he also slipped his knife out of his pocket and into his boot, the place where it often was.

Gabriel turned to face both Jesse and Hudson as he added, “If you see Shimada, don’t engage unless necessary. Call me or Morrison. He should be wandering around the ward, too.”

All three men nodded at each other, and without another thought, both Gabriel and Jesse set out down their respective hallways. Genji was presumably armed and obviously dangerous; as such, they had to find him before anyone else got hurt.

It was with renewed strength that Jesse made his way through the partial darkness. Although he didn’t check for the exact time, he remembered that he and Gabriel had laid in bed for an hour, meaning that it was four in the fucking morning.

Shimada better hope that it was Gabriel who found him, because Jesse sure as hell felt pissed.

Jesse felt his ire slowly building as he took the time to observe his surroundings; while it was hard to see in the darkness (only a few lights were left, and they were horribly, sporadically placed), there was obvious damage all around.

Most of the carts that held medical supplies had been turned over. Some looked as if they had been practically thrown, and Jesse could see that one had even dented the wall. Most of the rooms were closed (they could be manually locked from the from desk, used as a safety measure), and Jesse was thankful that there wasn’t much blood around, if hardly any at all.

Well, that was a little bit of a lie. There were a few splotches here and there, but there were no bodies. As Jesse approached the end of his second hallway, he was almost glad; Genji would be where either Gabriel or Jack would be, and they were certainly more capable of handling a crazed man-turned-cyborg.

Of course, when Jesse heard screams so violent that his hair stood on end, he cursed himself and then his unlucky fate.

At the very end of the hallway in the little waiting area was Genji Shimada, wielding a knife and holding no mercy. Two nurses were with him, but one was wounded on the ground, and the other... the other was being held up by the throat, kicking and fighting as best as she could.

It was with blind rage that Jesse sprinted forwards. His coherent thoughts dissipating with his patience, and when he rammed point blank into Genji, it only added to his adrenaline-fueled wrath.

Jesse struck so forcefully that Genji’s light body went flying a few feet. The nurse had been dropped, thankfully, and didn’t seem too harmed when Jesse turned his head to the side to speak to her.

“Get out of here, now, and take your friend with you,” he told her. When he was certain they’d heard him, he turned back to face Genji.

Needless to say, he turned back a little late. Genji was back in action faster than Jesse had anticipated, and had slammed his foot so hard into Jesse’s chest that he stumbled back and fell to the floor. Genji seemed to disregard him in favor of chasing after the nurses. Well, that wouldn’t do.

Despite being on his back, Jesse grabbed the cyborg’s leg and pulled back as hard as he could, which effectively made Genji fall face-first onto the ground. It gave Jesse enough time to stand up and block the hallway where the two nurses were running.

“What the _hell_ is your problem? Why’re you doing this?” he hissed, glaring at Genji as he stood back up.

Genji didn’t answer him. Of course he wouldn’t, the broody bastard. Instead, he chose to get up close and personal with Jesse; the weapon that Genji had (which Jesse had thought it was a knife, but appeared to actually be a scalpel) suddenly came into play.

Thank God for nurse Hudson and his biotic field, because if Jesse hadn’t been helped a little bit, he never would’ve been able to dodge the blade that went straight for his throat.

Again and again, Genji tried to slash at him, but again and again, Jesse tried to roll out of his way. He was successful for a while, but when Genji started to add harsher melee to his attack, Jesse started to struggle more than he was comfortable with. The biotic field had only done so much. Eventually, more hits started to land, and new cuts started to lace Jesse’s hands, then his arms, and then his face. It got uncomfortably close to his eye one too many times.

By the time Genji had managed to kick him to the ground, Jesse was panting like a dog. The scalpel had done its job, it had cut some places deep enough that the blood smeared across the cold tile floor when Jesse landed there. It obviously didn’t appease Genji at all; he gave Jesse’s stomach such a vicious kick that his wound reopened (not that it would’ve taken much to do so), and Jesse gave a whimpering groan as he felt his stitches pop. He was in fetal position when Genji placed a foot on his head.

“You want to know why I did this?” he said, pressing down on Jesse’s temple so hard that he nearly cried.

“I did this because I know what will happen. They will continue experimenting on me, they will do things I never wanted them to do.” Genji paused, and Jesse could feel the anger in the man growing. “When they are done, they will kill me! I am a criminal, and they will-“

“You don’t know jack shit about your situation, boy, but trust me, I do.”

Despite his predicament, Jesse found himself defiant even in the face of death. _Especially_ in the face of death. He slowly moved his hand down to where his leg was tucked against his chest, and just as Genji raised his foot to kick down onto his skull, Jesse pulled the knife from his boot and slashed upwards.

Jesse wasn’t particularly aiming for anything, so he was delightfully surprised when he managed to cut Genji’s heel. It was enough to make the cyborg fall back onto the ground. Jesse wasted no time in crawling on top of him, one arm pressed against Genji’s throat and the other clutching painfully to his own stomach. He could feel his shirt becoming damp, enough to stain his hand when he pulled it away.

“You know nothing!” Genj cried out, and both of his hands started to scrape against Jesse’s flesh with a vengeance. “You are a naive man who knows nothing of true cruelty in life! You have never once truly struggled like I have!”

When Genji’s metal hand found its way to Jesse’s stomach, Jesse felt he might actually faint; he was helpless as Genji flipped their positions. His arms fell flat above his head, and the knife was taken out of his hand and found itself at his throat. It was pressed hard enough to force blood to trickle out of his skin.

Jesse glared up at Genji, full of spite and defiance, but he felt... he felt tired. He felt resigned. He made no move to push the other man off, or to keep the knife from cutting into his throat. He simply couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was blood loss, or maybe it was because this felt so familiar in the worst kind of way. Memories that Jesse often tried to suppress bubbled to the surface; he could remember being in this position so many times, pinned under the weapons of those who needed to feel in control that day. He remembered that if he forced himself to relax, the knives and guns wouldn’t hurt so much, and the person would eventually go away. Prey that didn’t struggle was no fun at all.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Jesse muttered. He dropped his glare in place of apathy. Well, maybe it wasn’t quite apathy. He still cared, but every emotion that he’d once had to hide found themselves shining in his eyes.

It was sadness, a quiet acceptance; it was something that was wholly unlike Jesse, something foreign to his fiery existence. Like red desert rocks scraping his skin, he felt resigned to the fate Deadlock had sealed for him so long ago.

“You can kill me if you want, because I sure as hell deserve it. I ain’t never lived a good life, I never will, and they branded me so I’d never forget that.”

Jesse felt Genji’s gaze shift from his face up to where his arms were splayed above his head. He knew exactly what the other was looking at. Despite the circumstances, Jesse felt self-conscious; he wanted to hide his arm like he always did so nobody could see his shame ever again.

“I don’t know what you _think_ you know about me, but I never lived like you in a fancy castle,” Jesse continued. “I never had money, never had nothing. Didn’t even have a roof over my head.”

“If they did not care for you in some way, you would not be alive,” Genji said. He pushed the blade down a little harder, and Jesse felt the warmth of blood start to cover his neck. Still, he couldn’t help but sputter out dark laughter.

“Those bastards, they didn’t care for me. They _used_ me. They drugged me, they beat me, they starved me, they raped me. They took _everything_ from me, so if they ever gave a damn about my life, that’s a hell of a way to show it.”

Genji honestly seemed taken aback by Jesse’s words, but that somehow made him press the knife down harder, painful enough to make Jesse give a low whine. Genji thought he was _lying_.

“You are a criminal, a _killer_ , and Overwatch would never take you. Why are you here?” he asked, “Why are you not dead?”

With a shuddering breath, Jesse allowed himself to close his eyes. He didn’t really want to die, not now that he had something (or, more accurately, _somebody_ ) to live for, but if Genji killed him, he wanted to let his mind wander some place far away. He wanted to be at peace. He wanted a brief respite before he faced the fire and brimstone that would take him, because Jesse was absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be greeting angels once he died.

“Gabriel, he found me and took me in,” he wheezed, and couldn’t help but give a bitter, humorless laugh.

Stupid, foolish, beautiful Gabriel. What would he think when he found Jesse’s body?

“I don’t know what in the hell he was thinking. Maybe he wasn’t, but he gave me a home when I had none.” Some bittersweet emotion welled up in Jesse’s chest as he continued, “He gave me honor, he gave me _dignity_ when nobody else ever did, and he saw something in me that I never would’ve found in myself. Gabriel... made me _human_.”

Jesse paused, and for the first time in his fleeting, fragile life, he felt that he was finally ready to die. If Genji killed him, if he sent him down into the fiery depths with Satan himself, then at least he had made peace with all that he’d done; he wouldn’t die like a mangy desert dog, but with the pride of a soldier. If nothing else, at least he had been blessed with Gabriel.

“I don’t know if you remember me, Genji,” Jesse murmured, “But I remember _you_. You came into my hospital room and laughed at me for not being able to say Shimada. You taught me how to curse in Japanese if I taught you shit in Spanish. You cheered me up just because you could.”

Jesse let his entire body relax, and despite the pain and the blood soaking through his shirt, trickling from his neck, he felt himself smile.

“You might not have thought it, but I considered you a friend. If you kill me... well, at least you’re not some faceless stranger. At least you knew my name.”

Jesse felt more than heard Genji move, and although most sounds were blocked out by his heart thundering in his ears, he certainly heard the knife drop to the floor beside his head. Not a minute later, he felt Genji’s body leave his own, but by the way he seemed to move with such force, Jesse felt certain that it hadn’t been by his own volition.

Sure enough, as soon as Jesse opened his eyes, Gabriel was above him. He had knelt down beside him, hands pressing against the reopened wounds on Jesse’s stomach. He said something, but it took Jesse a few tries for it to actually register in his cloudy, befuddled brain.

“Jesse, can you move at all?” Gabriel asked him. He didn’t really wait for a response.

Gabriel was slinging Jesse’s arm around his shoulders, pulling him into sitting position and then up to standing. Before they could walk, however, Jesse grunted out a protest and reached back for his knife. He pulled Gabriel along with him as he hobbled over to Genji.

“Here,” he said, and he held the knife out to the cyborg. “Peace offering.”

Genji honestly looked like he’d been sucker punched, but he took the blade nonetheless. That done, Jesse let Gabriel walk him down the halls, calling for Hudson and Jack to help them.

——

After that fateful day, everything had settled down and gone back to normal.

Jesse had been stitched up and put on bedrest for a week, but it wasn’t all that bad; Gabriel had enough vacation days that he took a some time off in order to do his partner’s paperwork instead of his own (along with a few hours of cuddles and movies), and on the days Gabriel worked, Jack would sometimes come by and keep him company.

Despite most of the lightheartedness, Jack and Gabriel both asked Jesse what he wanted to do about Genji. Jack had given him full rights when it came to making a decision, and Gabriel supported that, but threw in his opinion on how he thought Genji needed to be severely punished in some way. It was a shock to both of them that Jesse simply brushed it off. Actually, he wanted to spend more time with Genji instead of just kicking him out or harshly reprimanding him.

The very second Jesse was finally well enough to get off of bedrest, he had practically demanded that he and Genji train together. Gabriel was reluctant to agree. Still, he caved in the end, which lead to Jesse panting loudly in the gym, blocking hit after hit when they came his way.

“I gotta say, you’re pretty fast,” Jesse laughed. “Still, my bullets are faster. We can test that out if you want!”

Genji just snorted at his playful taunt. He lunged forwards and tried to grapple with Jesse. He jumped to the side and rolled, but he didn’t ignore how Genji’s cybernetic hand would’ve most certainly caught him if not for his clothing.

His athletic shirt was black, sleeveless, and tight-fitting, so much so that it outlined every muscle he had. Gabriel had a particular fondness for it because of that. His pants were of the same style and color, although they were more leggings than pants, and oh boy, did Gabriel _really_ liked them; when he said they accentuated every part of him, he wasn’t lying.

The entire thing was made from skintight polyurethane fabric, just like the sheath from his gauntlet had been. It was slick enough that Genji’s prosthetic couldn’t find good purchase on it.

Jesse found it endlessly hilarious when he would come in wearing this specific outfit, and he would often do so out of pure mischief whenever they had new recruits. His teammates would always come to watch as the recruits would try (and normally fail) to not look at either Jesse’s abs, ass, or crotch, sometimes all three. Gabriel had even weaponized it, using it to make young soldiers lose a sparring match when one of them got too cocky.

Beauty kills, or so Gabriel had told him.

Still, Jesse didn’t seem to have the same effect on Genji. No, Genji was far more concerned with trying to win this match, and Jesse found that he enjoyed actually having to fight instead of having others ogle and easily fall. Genji was most certainly a breath of fresh air.

Now was not the time for appreciation, though; the two were tied 4-4, and this match would decide who won their little competition. It was honestly a toss-up. Genji’s body still needed fine-tuning (which is pretty much the only reason Angela had agreed to let him train), and Jesse was still worn out from the previous week’s wounds.

Despite his injuries, Jesse managed to grab Genji’s arm and yank him forwards, and like Gabriel had taught him, Jesse twisted his shoulder down and flipped his opponent over him. He heard Genji land with a loud thump.

“I could be faster if my body was real,” Genji complained. He pushed himself off the floor, ready to continue sparring (how many rounds could he go?), but Jesse waved him off.

“Let’s get lunch, yeah? You’ve killed me with your ninja tricks, and if I don’t recharge, you’re gonna kick my ass again.”

Genji rolled his eyes, but he followed Jesse out of the gym regardless. Despite the... _rough_ beginning and Genji’s angsty attitude, Jesse often found that Genji would be in the same room as him, or at least in the same area. He wouldn’t call that friendship, not by any means. Still, it seemed that Genji needed to have somebody on his side other than Angela (who had dealt out a harsh lecture, but had eventually forgiven him).

Although he would never comment on it, Jesse felt Genji step a bit closer to him when they entered the cafeteria. It was relatively loud, crowded, and honestly a little hot from all the bodies. Jesse elected to ignore it in favor of jogging towards the lunch line. He stacked his plate full (the lunch ladies had always been a little sweet on him and gave him extra) and moved to sit at a more secluded table so Genji would be more comfortable. As soon as his ass hit the chair, Jesse started to inhale his food.

“Can you eat anything, Genji?” he asked between breaths. “Not to be insensitive or nothing. You don’t gotta answer if you don’t wanna.”

Genji simply huffed at him. Jesse could tell that Genji was looking around the cafeteria (which Jesse had often done himself back in the day, when he felt he might have to run at any given moment), and he barely turned his head back to speak.

“I can eat small amounts. Not much, but some,” he said bitterly.

“Then try this. It’s good, I swear.”

Jesse was thankful that Genji didn’t shoot him too much of a glare, and was even more thankful when he took the food he was offering. Admittedly, he had a thing for sweets and just about anything that contained a lucrative amount of sugar (which Gabriel had always scolded him for), but Genji seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. He pushed his candy towards the cyborg while he ate the rest of his food.

“Who are those men and women? The ones in black?”

Jesse looked up at Genji, then to where he pointed. At a much larger table were Blackwatch agents, most of which were newer recruits instead of seasoned veterans. One of the two people telling stories in the middle made Jesse bristle.

Genji obviously noticed.

“Most of them are fresh meat,” he said instead of addressing the issue. “Blackwatch recruits are a rare breed, because most tend to go to Overwatch. They like being heroes and whatnot.”

Which was true. The Blackwatch:Overwatch recruit rate was probably 1:25, if not more drastic. Jesse didn’t mind, really, simply because it meant that they didn’t have to split their already shitty supplies (a miserly trait he picked up from Deadlock, no doubt), and he didn’t have to worry about more people dying. Genji wasn’t interested in that, though.

“Which one is the one you hate?” he asked, and Jesse couldn’t help but laugh at the bluntness.

“The man there in the middle. His name is Bora Khan, and he’s... well, let’s say him and I try to avoid each other to the best of our abilities.”

It was the only agreement that they had between them, unspoken or not. If Jesse was in one room and Bora came in, then they both stayed on opposite sides, _far_ away from each other. If they happened to stumble across each other in the hall, they would shoot each other a glare and continue on. Only when they were forced to train together did shit ever get real.

Although Jesse would never willingly breathe the same air as Bora under normal circumstances, he was absolutely delighted when they got to beat the shit out of each other. There had been multiple times where they ended up visiting Angela (or getting Victor to aid them) because of their roughness. Gabriel always scolded both of them, but he allowed them to spar on occasion simply because it let them get out their frustrations and hatred all in one go. It was once a month, every month, and that was fine with them.

“What about the woman?” Genji asked, and Jesse smiled when he looked over.

“That’s Kara. Her real name is, uh...” Jesse paused for a minute. His cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he tried to pronounce her name proper. “Her name is Florentyna Karasek. She’s a real nice woman, better than Bora Khan.”

If Jesse had messed up her name or stuttered while doing it (which he had truthfully done both), then Genji said nothing as an act of mercy. He seemed more focused on looking at the two people Jesse had pointed out for him.

Kara had noticed them both and waved (she didn’t know Genji, but he was with Jesse, so she smiled at him with all the kindness of a mother to her son’s friend). After a few more seconds, she spoke to Bora and said farewell, leaving the cafeteria to go train.

Bora had also noticed them as well, but was certainly less amiable. He seemed to mutter amongst his group while he glared in their direction.

Jesse elected to ignore him, and Genji did, too. He picked out no other significant members, and with his curiosity sated, he turned to look at Jesse, who understood the silent demand of wanting to leave.

“I know it’s about time for some people to get out of special training, so it’s a good idea that we leave. Just give me just a second, I’m gonna go put my tray up to wash.” He winked at Genji as he added, “Might get some extra sweets, too.”

As Genji muttered some angry Japanese (curses that Jesse understood and laughed at), Jesse pushed himself up and walked to the opposite end of the cafeteria. He was actually enjoying Genji’s companionship. He would never replace Victor as his best friend, but if they both tried at it, then Jesse had a feeling it could be a good thing. Sure, trying to kill each other was a hell of a way to start off a friendship, but details, details.

After purchasing a bag of sweets (that he technically shouldn’t have), Jesse felt genuinely happy. Gabriel might kill him for the sugar, but still. It was a good day for him, and it seemed nothing could ruin that at all.

Except for fucking Bora Khan.

Jesse first noticed the absence of the large group of agents, which was really nothing out of the ordinary. What made it odd was how they had moved from their large table to the smaller one, the one that Jesse had been sitting at, and as he marched his way over there, he couldn’t help but feel his blood pressure rising. He felt it absolutely skyrocket when he heard Bora’s condescending taunts and jabs.

They were directed at Genji.

“Out of my way! Move!” Jesse’s voice was so loud that it was like thunder, and all of the agents in front of him jumped to the side like they’d been shocked. As soon as he entered the little circle that they’d formed, they moved right back to their original positions.

Just as he’d thought, Bora Khan was standing a few feet back from the table, sneering some nasty slur that Jesse got the very end of. He even had the gall to flaunt his pistol before slipping it back into its holster. Genji hadn’t moved. Jesse admired the man’s absolute self-control, because at the moment, he himself had _none_.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, talking with such animosity that Bora took a step back.

“I’m not required to answer to you. Whatever I do is my business, not yours.”

Jesse felt himself growl out something that sounded like a snarl, another threatening to slipn from his throat when both he and Bora started to size each other up, mirroring each other carefully. The one-month fight would just have to come early this time.

“McCree,” Genji said, moving from the table to stand behind Jesse, “This really is not worth your-“

“Shut the fuck up, tin can.”

Oh, that was _it_.

As soon as those words escaped Bora’s mouth, Jesse surged up and punched Bora straight in the face. It was barely deflected and ended up hitting the upper part of his head instead of his nose. Again and again, Jesse pushed forwards, Bora pushing right back, but every time Bora landed one punch, Jesse would land two.

Like Jesse had done with Genji, as soon as Bora tried to run at him, he twisted his shoulder and forced the man to flip, but Bora didn’t go down without a fight. On the way down, he had managed to flail and strike the toe of his boot straight into Jesse’s healing stomach, which caused him to falter and stumble forwards. His breath came in shaking gasps as he watched Bora slowly rise back up.

Both of them were supporting busted lips and miscellaneous bruises, but Bora was more battered than Jesse. They were both panting, but they refused to surrender for the sake of pride; Bora wouldn’t go down because a crowd (which was now chanting and cheering loudly) was watching him, while Jesse wouldn’t because he was fighting for Genji.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

Although Jesse was now too preoccupied recovering from the blow to his stomach and grappling with Bora, he recognized the voice of his friend, but he elected to ignore it. Instead, he landed an elbow straight into Bora’s eye, and reveled in the cry of pain that came from doing so.

Then, in a split second, Jesse had Bora in a chokehold, taking the man’s pistol from his holster and pressing the cold metal straight to Bora’s temple.

The entire crowd screamed in response to Jesse’s action. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to care; all Jesse cared about in that moment was the fear radiating off of Bora, feeling him struggle in his grip.

“You wouldn’t dare!” he choked out, gasping for breath whenever Jesse would constrict around his throat, and he laughed at him.

Jesse laughed and laughed and laughed until he was certain he must’ve sounded insane, but the venom in his voice never diminished, and the hatred in his body couldn’t be contained. He smiled as he tightened his grip, savoring the wheezing he could hear.

“You wanna test that, Bora?”

Although Jesse knew where he was, knew who was in his grip, he felt... he felt as if he were in another time, another place. He could feel the warm Santa Fe sun on his back. The shouting he heard around him wasn’t coming from Blackwatch agents. It was coming from gang members.

How many times had Jesse put someone in this position? How many times had he been put in this position _himself_? He was always too sick to fight back, too starved, too little, too _weak_. Now, though, he was strong. He was older, more powerful, he was in control.

He wasn’t weak now. He _wasn’t_.

Jesse was fairly certain that if somebody hadn’t placed a hand on his shoulder (he knew that touch, because it was always so gentle, so kind), he might’ve lost the rest of his humanity and blown a man’s head clean off.

“Jesse.”

When Jesse jerked his head to the side, he saw a familiar face looking back at him. This man... he was a friend. Not an enemy like a gang member, like Bora, but a friend.

Under the man’s relentless stare, Jesse was able to remember that he wasn’t back in Deadlock Gorge. He wasn’t sweating under an endless sun, he wasn’t leaving cold bodies in the sand, he wasn’t running and fighting and begging for his life.

Jesse was with Blackwatch, and he was safe. He could actually be okay, and Victor was a good reminder of that; he didn’t look at Jesse like he was some horrible human being, or like something _less_ than one. He wasn’t cold, or harsh, or afraid. He didn’t judge his friend or shame him. Rather, Victor’s unyielding eyes only showed quiet, subdued sadness.

_You_ _can_ _do_ _better_ _than_ _this_ , _Jesse_.

Jesse felt his face contort in shame as he dropped a nearly unconscious Bora Kan onto the ground. When Victor snapped his fingers and held out his hand, Jesse flinched, but he held out the gun like Victor had quietly commanded him to do. Even having his gut almost kicked open for the second time didn’t hurt as bad as _the_ _look._

“Everybody, get out of here, and take agent Khan to Doctor Ziegler,” Victor ordered, and most of the recruits ran so fast that a few almost tripped. They almost forgot about Bora in their rush.

After that, the only ones left were Jesse, Genji, and Victor.

Jesse let out a quiet grumble as Genji approached, the cyborg curiously watching Victor take the magazine out of the pistol and place it in his pocket. The empty gun was discarded on the table.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Victor demanded. He still wasn’t angry, but he was just horribly, _horribly_ disappointed.

Ah shit, that was worse than anger.

Jesse sucked in a breath and rubbed at the dark bruise that was forming below his eye, licking where his lip had split. He felt nervous, ashamed. He would’ve pulled at his dog tags if they weren’t trapped under his shirt. Jesse hated to disappoint, he hated it more than just about anything in the world if it was somebody he genuinely cared about. Blood and gore, he could deal with, but letting someone down? It felt like a searing cattle prod against his skin.

“Please, do not scold McCree.”

Jesse and Victor turned to look at Genji, both shocked that he had spoken up in Jesse’s defense. The face plate hid most of Genji’s thoughts and emotions, but Jesse could see something not unlike indebted protectiveness in his eyes.

“Khan mocked me and degraded me. McCree was... protecting my honor and dignity. He is a good man, so if you must discipline anyone, it should be me.”

That was unexpected, but not unappreciated. Jesse smiled sheepishly up at Genji upon hearing an echo of his own words. Victor also smiled, and pushed Jesse to sit back down at the table, walking over to grab napkins and a bottle of water.

“Who are you?” Genji asked. He sat a few seats away, and watched as Victor came back with his hands full, placing most of the items on the table.

“My name is Victor-Augustin Giroux, and I work under Commander Gabriel Reyes as a field medic.”

He looked towards Genji and inclining his head as a little greeting. Jesse could appreciate Victor’s many virtues, but his endless kindness and love was the top for him. He seemed to enjoy Genji just like Jesse did.

“Forgive my bluntness, but I’ve been helping Doctor Ziegler find ways to recycle your blood throughout your new body,” he added, “So I must say, it’s a pleasure to meet you as a person and not just a vessel.”

Genji seemed bitter yet appreciative at hearing that, but he shrugged it off. It wasn’t very important. Instead, he watched with careful eyes as Victor poured a little water on a napkin and knelt down, gently taking Jesse’s face in his hands as he wiped away the blood from his lips. Jesse closed his eyes and simply let him.

“Are you and agent McCree romantic partners?”

Jesse snorted so loudly at Genji’s frank question that it hurt his throat, and Victor gave an affection huff.

“No, I’m afraid not, though everyone jokes that we are. We’re actually best friends,” Victor said. With a gentle slap of Jesse’s head, he added, “And I’m also acting in place of his handler.”

“His... what?”

Jesse groaned at the word, opening his eyes to halfheartedly glare at his friend. He hated that word with a passion. He always felt like an animal when he heard it, and while he knew it wasn’t meant to be that way, it still made him bitter.

Victor knew that better than most (Jesse complained to no end about how it irked him), but at Genji’s request for an explanation, he looked up to Jesse for permission to speak; Victor would never speak anything more than what his friend would allow him. Jesse simply nodded his head in response. He knew that Genji would be the last person to judge him.

“Due to unfortunate circumstances, Jesse is required to have a handler, an officer of sorts. It’s somebody that can keep... well, someone who can keep instances like this to a minimum,” Victor said. “Jesse is a good man, but rules are rules.”

It was indeed Overwatch’s rule that said somebody was required to train and manage Jesse until he could be deemed ‘safe’. The only problem was that he would never be considered that. Ever. Even as he mellowed down with age and training, Overwatch demanded that somebody try and control him because he was a ‘risk’ and a ‘safety hazard’ to his fellow agents. Worst yet, he wasn’t even supposed to leave base without somebody constantly at his side.

Gabriel had always tried to swear for him, saying that he was safe for others to be around, but every time something like this happened, Jesse felt like he was disappointing him. He usually didn’t mean to act how he did. He never wanted to hurt people. Outside of making Gabriel look like a fool, Jesse always felt so horrible after lashing out, especially with his physically violent outbursts.

Angela had told him not to feel guilty about these episodes. She said it wasn’t his fault, that it was Deadlock’s; she said that what they had done to him had hurt him, but that they could work on it. They _would_ work on it. Jesse knew that sometimes other soldiers had to have handlers like he did, and Angela had said it was for the same reason; trauma made them do things they never wanted to do.

“Jesse’s handler is required to train him and have a strong enough influence to easily persuade him,” Victor continued. “It’s vital that somebody can help Jesse manage his thoughts and emotions when he’s around civilians and soldiers alike.”

“You make him sound like an animal,” Genji said. He looked... displeased? “You make him sound like something to tame and use to your advantage.”

Victor shook his head with a sad laugh, and moved to wash Jesse’s knuckles. He tsked when he saw the bruising there, but nevertheless, he proceeded with his never-ending kindness, washing his hand gently enough to where it hardly hurt at all.

“It has nothing to do with taming him. Nobody can tame Jesse,” Victor said. “But what it _does_ have to do with is _trust_.”

“Trust...?”

The medic nodded at Genji, but didn’t look up as he continued his administrations. Jesse firmly believed that his friend qualified for sainthood for not chewing him out for fighting (or maybe he was just too busy conversing with Genji).

“Let’s say you’re in a land full of strangers. They’ve forcefully taken you from your home, and despite how much you hated your family there, how horribly they treated you, they’re all you’ve ever known. Some of the strangers that took you are even threatening to kill you for defending yourself against them.”

Victor paused, and looked up at Jesse to make sure he hadn’t yet crossed a line. Jesse just smiled at him. Victor’s parable was accurate, telling the story of young Jesse McCree, somebody so afraid of others that he was willing to starve himself again and again in order to avoid them.

“Time passes, you’ve made new friends and family. Your world is good, and it’s better for you than it ever has been in your entire life,” Victor continues, “You love everybody around you with every fiber of your being, but your previous life and all the abuse from it lingers. Sometimes, you’re still afraid that everyone will eventually kill you. A well-founded fear. That being said, would you ever trust any of your new friends enough to let them put a gun to your head?”

They both looked over at a very morose Genji, who was obviously thinking critically on the scenario he had been given. Eventually, he shook his head and looked down at his hands.

“I... would not.”

“Love doesn’t always equate to trust,” Victor said. He finally stood up and gave Jesse a pat on the shoulder. “But a handler is the person that Jesse trusts the most. Even if he were completely broken and defenseless, he would trust his handler to not harm him.”

Genji stared incredulously at Victor, then to Jesse, then back at Victor. He did that a few times before crossing his arms over his chest with a loud huff, and averted his gaze from them to look at the rest of the cafeteria.

Other people had started to filter in, although it wasn’t near as many as before. They were completely unaware of what had happened (or if they did know, they were smart enough to not bring it up just yet).

“Are you his handler, then?” Genji asked. “He seems to trust you a lot.”

“Actually, that would be me.”

All three of them jumped as they whipped their hands around to the voice that had spoken, and while Genji was not at all amused, Jesse and Victor breathed out a quiet laugh.

“Way to give a man a heart attack, boss,” Jesse said with a smile, and rose from his spot to meet Gabriel’s eye.

Gabriel, although obviously just as pleased to see Jesse, gave him a half questioning, half accusatory glance when he saw the new bruises littering his skin. As if he didn’t already have enough. Jesse just shrugged in favor of looking to the person that had walked over with Gabriel. He automatically felt regret.

The person beside of Reyes was a tall, slender woman in an Overwatch lab coat, not unlike the one Angela wore, and her hair was a fiery orange that was painfully noticeable. Strangely enough, that wasn’t her most distinct feature. No, it was her eyes that caught Jesse’s attention.

One was blue, and the other was red. Honest to God _red_. Jesse didn’t mind heterochromia iridium at all (he often thought it was actually rather beautiful), but it was the way that the woman looked at him that set him on edge. She eyed him like a lab rat, like he was a lovely little piece of meat that she could cook however she pleased. That was what caused him to catch her wrist in a painfully tight grip as she reached for his face.

“Handler or not, he bites, so I would advise caution.” Victor’s voice was very melodic and smooth, but the acrid threat was there for those who could catch it. He felt the same as Jesse in regards to this woman’s general aura.

“I’ve heard from Gabriel that you have a very special gift,” the woman said, and the way she emphasized _gift_ made Jesse’s skin crawl.

“I ain’t got no idea about what you’re-“

“It’s alright, Jesse. O’Deorain won’t hurt you.”

Jesse shot Gabriel a look of such disbelief that he snorted (Jesse knew it would be a source of teasing later, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually care about it). With a gentle hand, Gabriel carefully pried Jesse’s fingers loose before slowly turning his head to the side, exposing Jesse’s right eye for this woman, O’Deorain, to see.

For whatever reason, Jesse felt somewhat betrayed by that action. It was a petty feeling and he knew it, but it hurt him just a little that Gabriel would put him in an odd, uncomfortable position over some scientist he’d just met. He didn’t like anyone but his friends to touch him, and even then that could be iffy somedays.

Also, who was this woman to call Gabriel by his first name? To add to that, had Gabriel actually explained to her what Deadeye was? It wasn’t exactly a secret, not by any means, but it was something that Jesse himself was a bit protective of. It was _his_ story to tell, not anybody else’s. Not even Gabriel’s.

Although he allowed O’Deorain to study his eye for a few moments, he eventually found he couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to start snarling when Genji spoke up.

“I... I do not feel very well, McCree,” he said, tugging Jesse away from Gabriel’s grip and the woman’s invasive curiosity. “Can we go? You also promised Doctor Ziegler you would have me back an hour ago.”

In all of his life, Jesse had never known just how much he could love one man’s beautiful, _beautiful_ ability to lie, and to sound so convincing that it could’ve been real. Victor even played along, murmuring gently to Genji as he seemed to appraise his health.

“Ah shit, you’re right! Let’s get you back before the good doctor decides to kill us both.”

Even as Jesse and his friends hauled ass out of the cafeteria, far away from Reyes and O’Deorain, he couldn’t help but feel a bitter aftertaste lingering in his mouth.

Who the hell was that woman, and why was Gabriel so willing to sell Jesse’s faith down the river at her command?

It irked him, but as Victor and even Genji started to laugh at the situation, Jesse felt himself let it go. She couldn’t be too horrible, right?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed some angsty stuff (and a little bit of smutty smut, which I’ll probably add more of in upcoming stuff???) man I wish I was better at writing good ol’ sexy times.
> 
> Anyways, as always, feel free to point out errors and to just talk to me. I’m a lonely lad XD


End file.
